un conversation avec le pantalon bleu
Blue. Pants.

What's wrong pants? Are you stained? soiled? too short? too long? Are you pleated pants trapped in the body of flat front pants?

Is that why you look so blue? Is it because even as a pair you feel alone somehow?

Poor blue pants.

Let me try. I put you on one leg at a time. You seem ok to me. I'm not sure how to match you to my other clothes.

Oh. No. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant you were unique...er...special.

No. No. Of course my butt doesn't make you look fat. You look great. I'm serious. I'm not even thinking about khaki.

I didn't say khaki. I said, er, I er.


Don't go blue pants. PLease. Blue is part of your mystique. It's more than a color or simple sadness. You are brooding, intense, artistic.

Oh. Blue pants. Don't cry. Please. No one likes wet pants. Not no one. I'm sorry.

OH. Blue.